Sunset
by Erica Wattson
Summary: The year is 1918 and 17-year old Edward Mason is dying in a Chicago hospital of the Spanish Influenza when Dr. Carlisle Cullen heeds a plead by Elizabeth Mason to save her son, in the way only he can...
1. Despair

**A/N: This is a story I thought up this afternoon, following Edward Mason's last moments as a human, as he lays in the hospital dying of the Spanish Influenza in 1918 Chicago. It is from Edward's perspective, and since he's still human, and Bella won't exist for another hundred years or so, Edward is a little different from how we know him. He is after all, only seventeen for the first time.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight, and it's a good thing I don't- Stephenie Meyer writes her characters so much better than I ever could!**

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Sunset

Chapter One

Despair

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Every bone, every joint every vein in my weak body shivered violently with a chill as if I was encased by ice. My head ached with sharp waves of pain above my right eye, causing heightened agony whenever I attempted to glance around my surroundings. I longed to slip back into unconsciousness. Sleep seemed to be the only relief, though I never woke rested.

The despair was nearly as overwhelming when completely removed from my body. In my week laying here in this particular hospital chamber, I had neither witnessed, nor heard of any patient leaving the room- alive. The heavy sigh of a nurse or doctor indicated another loss of human life, and was usually quickly followed by the squeaky wheels of the rolling table on which they transported the dead to the morgue. The room was rank with the smell of disease, the sounds of people attempting to hack through the grime blocking their air passages through coughing. But worst, was the feeling of fear. The darkness of fear encompassed all my thoughts, hiding the hope that might have lingered from view.

Death had never seemed so _real_. Death had never been something so very close to me. At the age of seventeen I had been to my share of funerals. mourning in the deaths of grandparents and friends loved. Never did I imagine that Death would touch my family- but it had. Father was gone. He and I had fallen sick on that same fateful September afternoon, but the diseased attacked him with so much more violence. Within a day of the first symptoms he fell asleep, his body convulsing violently with shivers of cold, all while his blood boiled within...

Mother never left his side. She didn't even stop to sleep, fighting desperately to keep him by her side. All day and all through the night she attended us, bringing cold towels in a vain attempt to cool our fevers. My fever was much milder, my coughs more clean. Still, Mother attended to me as much as she could. By morning Mother was weakened also, and when in the afternoon she herself feared she had contracted the epidemic she tried to call the doctor. With the influenza raging throughout the city and thousands of men crowding the hospitals, no physician could afford to make house calls. So, mother sent the serving staff home and called for a carriage to the hospital.

Upon arrival at the hospital Mother had been quarantined, though she had feigned perfect health to continue caring for us. Father and I were placed in cots, side-by -side on the floor. She stayed by us bedside all throughout the night seeing to it that we were as comfortable as possible. Around midnight Father slipped out of consciousness for the last time. By morning he was gone. Her tears had soaked his bedsheets before the nurses could come and cart his body away.

We couldn't even hold a funeral. I never even had the chance to say goodbye, not really. Mother soon admitted that she also was ill, and took Father's cot beside me. Her smooth, musical voice had gone hoarse as she whispered in the darkness to me in those rare moments of consciousness.

"Edward." She called to me now. I turned my head to face her, letting my face fall upon my pillow like a brick. I allowed my eyes to open as little as possible. She didn't even have to know I was awake. Mother should be falling to pieces. I was her grown son- I needed to be strong for her. If I she didn't even know I was conscious I wouldn't have to pretend that I wasn't giving up already.. The wrinkles around her eyes seemed to me to be gashes in her flesh. "Edward Mason. I know you're awake."

I squeezed my eyes shut. If I had to look at her face again I was going to cry, but a sudden, irresistible urge to cough gave me away completely. I sat up for a moment before falling back to the cot. My chest felt as if it was bursting with an internal explosion. I forced myself to sit with my back against the cold stone wall, which sent shivers up my spine.

"Edward, we're going to pull through this, you and I." She whispered, sitting upright herself so that her shoulder rested on the wall. She tried to smile to reassure me, but landed in a fit of coughs herself. I watched with growing horror as her body convulsed with coughs and shivers. She still tried to smile as she sank back to nestle her body in her sheets.

I caught a tear falling down her face, and that was enough to trigger my own weak emotions. I gave in to the hopelessness and cried, setting my chin down on my knees. My body shook with such violence that the woolen blanket covering me, keeping me feeling warm fell to my side. I wanted the misery to take me.

_God! Oh God! Let me die please. Please... You love me, right God? Let me die... make me die. Let me perish lord. May the fever burn me away. _

I sank back onto the cot, setting my head on the pillow. I refused to put the blanket back, thinking perhaps if I was more miserable my life would end sooner. My whole body felt numb and cold. I cried. My prayers turned into poems of misery in my head, begging God to put an end to me. I drifted out of consciousness again, still praying.

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When I woke again I was first disappointed that I wasn't yet dead. Then I realized that Mother was waiting, sitting up for me. She wanted to talk to me, I could tell just by looking into her green eyes.

"I'm dying Mother." I said, my rasping voice struggling just to force out the words.

"No Edward." She replied, firmly, as if I was seven years old again and she had just slapped my hand for sticking my finger into her blueberry pie. "I don't believe this is what God wants for you." She clarified, her voice weaker than before.

"How do you know what God wants?" I snapped. "He wants me to die." Mother smiled and began humming. She went on like that for a few moments, her eyes closed.

"Don't say that dear. There's so much more for you to do my son. I want you to hold on. You will make it through this."

"No Mother, I won't." I insisted.

"Edward Mason! You've always been such a good boy, don't you start to talk back to your mother now. Your existence is not about to end in this place." Her words were quiet, her tone resolute. She closed her eyes, serenely and let herself fall asleep again. I looked on my mother and closed my own eyes.

_God forgive me... If only for my Mother, I don't want to die anymore. I know you have a place for me in heaven, but I'm not ready yet!Oh Lord, don't let me go!_

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I was brought back to consciousness by sharp pains in the pit of my stomach. I had hardly imagined a greater pain than that which I had already endured, but this was worse. My fever wasn't breaking, I knew that much. My chest rising into the air, I coughed more, my throat burning as I gasped for air. I turned my head, and there Mother was, looking back at me, her eyes wide with fright. Her eyes told me I must look worse. She believed I was dying now.

The coughing fit subsided for a moment and I lay my head back on my pillow.

"Edward," Mother said, her tone now frantic. "Dear one. Pull through this."

"I don't think... I can." I choked out. I saw Mother pulling on her left hand before I had to shut my eyes. It hurt too much to have them open, even in the dim light of the setting sun streaming in through the high windows. I felt the warmth of her hands around one of mine. I felt her ring slip around my smallest finger.

"Mother, no." I gasped, still unable to open my eyes. I felt... So sleepy, but I still knew that Mother shouldn't be giving me her ring.

"Keep it safe. Stay strong. Love, Edward. This ring needs to go to someone who deserves it, and I want you to cherish her forever... I won't be needing it anymore." She whispered in my ear, her voice weaker and somehow more desperate than ever before. I realized that she was crying now, but I could do nothing to comfort her. I had no energy to speak.

The feeling of despair was subsiding. I became aware that I wasn't even thinking and fought desperately to force myself back into the hopelessness, but even misery was beyond me now.

I could feel myself slipping away.

I was going to die.

And I was afraid.

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It was as if there was nothing. My whole being cried out in pain, yet it was all numbness. My awareness of self was the only indication I could give myself that I still lived.

And I was so very terrified.

_Oh God! I'm so afraid_

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**A/N: Well, there's Chapter One. I'll continue soon- I hope! I really enjoyed writing it, and I hope that if you like reading it that you'll review!**


	2. Hellfire

**A/N:** So I actually liked Breaking Dawn, which seems to be a rather controversial opinion to hold 'round these parts. It was great to see the characters grow, especially Bella. I only wish there had been more Edward. I'm not going to say anything more though, just in case some of you haven't read it. Besides, that had virtually nothing to do with this story.

Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight, or it's characters. That's Stephenie Meyer's job.

and without further ado...

**Sunset, Chapter Two**

**Hellfire**

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I had for so long been nothing- such had been my mean existence for a passage of time I did not know. I can only suppose that when one is so near death as I am, that time loses it's meaning. It must be moving either too quickly, or stands too still for me to comprehend.

In fact, I was now only aware of the absence of the nothing by the cold, a deep, deep chill running to the very marrow of my bones. The air around me had ceased to be stagnant, even now as it moved against my skin, stealing the warmth of the raging fever which was by the minute conquering my life.

My eyes could not be brought to open, though I was unable to recall why. It took every ounce of concentration to think past the cold which encompassed every part of me and realize the fear that hung in my mind, threatening to crush me into eternal silence.

I could not dwell on the fear.

Instead I clung desperately to the cold. Cold was something- more tangible than fear, though neither would I be able to hold in my fist if I tired. Still, man could overcome cold with a blanket or a fire. Fear could not be controlled. Fear consumed, lingered, destroyed.

The advantage lied in the numbness that the cold brought, while still managing to keep me on the verge of consciousness, on the edge of nothing without allowing the pain to take over again. Still, I allowed myself to be lost further in the numb, though a part of me wanted to hold onto the pain, keep it, for as long as it stayed, so would my life.

For a moment, I tried to listen to the side that preferred the pain, forcing myself to become aware of the air tugging at the roots of my hair, and I realized the situation of my body. I was bent at the waist, at the knees, with my arms falling nowhere, into nothing. Faint pressure, slightly colder than _the_ cold suspended me. So then, I was being carried. Perhaps I was dead already, and this was the angel sent down to harvest my soul for heaven.

My awareness began again to slip. I could feel only the pain, only the fever. I knew my throat convulsed and hacked the air in and out of my lungs. I knew my heart was beating. I knew only existence. But then the cold failed, and it was warm, the air had ceased to move and the nothing creped in deeper into the recesses of my mind.

Oblivion had become near, tangible, I could see it beneath my closed lids, _feel _it in my innermost being.

I could not fight this.

I would not dare try.

Death had become something resolved to me, and yet, my _soul_ cried out for one last petition, unwilling to surrender my body at this moment. As the darkness soaked into my mind as water to a sponge my being cried out to the heavens one last time

_Oh Lord, my soul, take it, take me for forever... Oh God, God... _

My failing consciousness could no longer cry my thoughts, I was no longer able to have any real thoughts, but still, my soul but held on to one thing, one idea, one essence of my plea...

_God, God... Oh God... Oh God... Oh God... Oh God... --_

"God, father, for your glory, let this be right. Forgive me..."

Something outside of me had spoken, though I scarcely knew it, the black had come for me, consuming my _being_, eating away at the _self_ which had been _me_.

_And then I was nothing..._

* * *

Fire.

My body- my mind- my everything, and most assuredly _my soul_ was aflame.

My very being was consumed, encompassed, incapacitated, and thoroughly overwhelmed with the unholy inferno which raged all around me now.

**GOD! Oh Lord, Oh God!! LORD-- NOOOOOOOO!!**

What had I done- no, that was no question. Surely any sinner deserved this, and me, surly being the worst of all-- but _me-- _I had believed in Jesus Christ- most certainly I had! I was more sure now than ever that I did! I had entrusted _Him_ with my soul! What must I have done to nullify this holy truth which had been made known to me?

In life I had even _tried_ being good, _tried_ pleasing God, _tried_ showing others through my testimony the hope that was in me...

But now I realized my hope was but for naught.

For surely, this was Hades.

I tried to scream, caring not if my pleas contained intelligible words or not. Surely if God was anywhere near he would hear me and answer. The only explanation was that I was in a place where He was not. And I knew it must be true.

Only separation from God, the Only Good, the Only Holy Being could bring about suffering such as this.

* * *

This fire, this pain was a cruelty to my flesh now, beyond what I could ever have imagined, beyond that for which there exist words to describe.

Somewhere in my mind I was able to compare this with the sufferings I had endured while I was still living. But this was beyond comparison. The suffering I had thought had been pain in the fever which took my existence was nothing to this. One would have to multiply the pain of the fever ten thousand times ten thousand, plus another ten fold, perhaps... and the comparison would still be nothing. This was outside of anything-- everything I had known.

If God was listening still, he's hear my screams, my cries for mercy. If He didn't want me in Heaven, I'd gladly take oblivion over this!

Time was nothing- for this was hell, and pain was eternal.

* * *

Since there was no time, it was only a passage of existence that seemed to have gone when I came to the revelation that there was no fire outside of me. My being lay not on a bed of flame. I was not being consumed by everlasting fire.

No- but there was still an inferno burning away at my being-

And it was _within_ me.

It serged through my veins, breaking every cell of my body only to hover and break them again, but yet it never left one place. It burnt me away simultaneously.

Yet- there was more to be burned.

I vaguely recalled the story of Moses and the burning bush. The bush was forever on fire, yet it never burned.

Such burning was that of my _soul_.

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**A/N:** Well, there's chapter two.

I hope the open thinking about God didn't offend anyone. I was trying to get inside of Edward's mind, into what he might have thought when he was changed, with his ideas about God Meyer tells us he has in New Moon and Eclipse.

Most of all, I hope you all _enjoyed_ it. The next chapter should be more interesting. Less pain, more explanation. If you at all liked reading it, then please review. Even if you didn't like it, please review because I'd very much like to hear what it is that you do think and what I might to to improve. Thanks though for reading!


	3. The Voices of the Demons

A/N: Thanks for the reviews! There are only four so far, but even just those encourage me to keep writing. I'm really busy with school these days, so I'm not sure what my update schedule is going to look like, but I'll update again soon, probably.

Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight, because if I did I'd be super busy right now to even think about writing fanfiction!

**Sunset, Chapter Three**

**The Demons  
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The inferno continued it's serge through my being and never ceased to agonize me at a level infinitely greater to that which had taken me in the eternity of fire that had already passed. And yet... I was feeling _alive_. I could feel my heart beating, pushing molten steel through my veins continually renewing the burning of my innards. I screamed in nothing less than agony.

Again.

Again.

My ears burst at each ungodly shriek. The sound was worse than nails, scraped against a kindergarten slate. Again, they would hear it and break once more. My body was continually sacrificed on the pire of my blistering soul. I sensed the heat, like that molten steel lining my veins, never hardening, never slowing. It was a plasma, more than liquid, hotter than a stove boiling water outside on a relentlessly sunny day.

I could pinpoint the forefront of each blow, as the blacksmith against the anvil on the steel of myself. With each separate hit the superheated metal splashed like a boulder in the water of a quarry inside my skin- outside my body. toes and fingertips, for instance were even now flooded with molten metal, and while still liquid were beaten. With a whip. With a hammer. Even as I tried to identify what it was now which punished my outermost digits, I realized my own thought- I was conscious beyond the fire. I discovered that while trying to describe the agony, I was thinking above it, around it. The pain itself was nothing less than it had been, but my mind was _more_.

This could be only some new form of torture. The devil, unsatisfied with my strengthened soul had to amuse himself with a punishment greater than fire alone. I wanted to laugh, but I could only howl again in agony. The sound rang gloriously in my ears. I screamed again and sensed the waves of sound reverberating in the canals and tunnels of my burning ears.

I took some small satisfaction in that. So long as I was damned I might as well take some enjoyment out of it while I could,-before it was taken from me and turned into some new device of misery. I was only aware for the time before I became aware that I had distracted myself from the pain. I had hardly begun to think how I might utilize this consciousness when the furnace within me took vengeance and called back to my thoughts with an increase of heat. I could only think of the impossibility of it, and yet the pain spoke to me- any greater pain was possible.

But strangely- The conscious did not long leave me. Eternity continued on, allowing me to think further. Not that I desired to think The loneliness consumed me as I realized I had forever to burn and ponder that fact. And though I did not want to dare, I could not contain the hope that arose from the corners of my mind- and though it was insane for one in hell to hope, to hope, I did.

And then I heard _them_.

The demons.

Faintly the sound of men, young and old accompanied by women and children, whispering, yelling, cursing, talking, mumbling. One unclear voice screamed loudest, the one nearest to me undoubtedly. I was instantly overwhelmed. I was unable to break them apart, to pick out one voice over any other. I could hear they were saying words, screaming words. Foul words, words of anguish, nasty words. Words I did not understand. Words in English, words in French, and some in languages with which I was unfamiliar yet could vaugly comprehend. Unable to understand, I screamed again. The sweet and terrible sound of my broken voice rang out again, shaking my body this time with its awesome symphony of the most terrible music.

Revelation came to me that I was not _hearing _the demons at all. The multitude of voices, with all their volume failed to come to my ears. Nay, they spoke to me where ears could not reach. They spoke to me in my _mind_.

Ahhh... So this was the new torture. I had been granted awareness above the pain, and now I would forever be tormented with voices, pounding on my brain. I was furious and terrified.

I soon realized I had received a new gift, this one physical precursor to the next punishment, doubtless. The blacksmith had finished pounding my toes and fingers and now was working on my limbs, closer to my core with each pound. I flexed my fingers, amazed that the fire within them had ceased. It was of little consequence that my arms and legs were receiving the same treatment so lately undergone by the farthest extensions of my body, I could at least concentrate other extensions of my mind on predicting the devil's next move, which new tribulation he had in store for me.

But then waves of sound which were not my own met my ears and resonated in my head. A voice, clear and strong was now calling to me.

"Edward, can you hear me now?"

I wanted to answer with words, but could not form the syllables in my throat, on my tung. Instead a shriek, clearer and louder than any yet escaped between my lips.

The voice responded with a low chuckle. Lower than any which I had heard before.

"I take that as 'yes,'" it said.

This time I managed only a groan as the molten steel poured from my arms to my shoulders and neck.

"I am sorry beyond what any words could tell you for what you now are feeling Edward Mason." The voice boomed, somehow kindly.

I wanted to disbelieve him, but the loud demon in my head, though unclear seemed to sincerely concur with the spoken voice. And then I wanted to trust, and to hope. The loud demon of my mind was every second making itself more known, sounding more and more like the voice. I became suspicious of this new device, this upcoming torture.

But then I felt myself strong. The fire raged on in my chest, but I felt that if only I could open my eyes and see the demon I would now crush him and escape from this hell.

"You may not believe me young man, but you are not in hell."

I could not believe that, if I was dead, but again the loud demon agreed with the voice. The demon showed me fuzzy pictures of a man nearly my age, writhing on a bed, white hands on his chest, in a small, dimly lit room with a window and a full moon outside. I did not understand why I was seeing this. Why I was thinking this. Why the demon was speaking in words in accordance with the voice. I wildly hoped that the man was me- though so very different from myself. Wordlessly the demon was planting in my head ideas of hope.

"You aren't quite dead. It's difficult to explain..."

And now, I could almost believe that I was not in hell.. I did believe that I wasn't dead. It seemed unimaginable for any dead man to feel a fire in the core of his body like I felt now. My stomach now held much of the molten steel which burnt each side like acid, hardening, melting, burning.

"You are changing Edward."

The demon flashed ideas now, and I could sense it was debating itself. I could comprehend it planing words in my head.

_Blood._

_Tell._

_Night._

_Mother._

_Secret. _

_Animal._

_Fire._

_Man. _

_God. _

_Wait._

_Now. _

_Hunger. _

_Strong. _

_Soon. Heart. _

_Blood. Beat. _

_Heart. _

_Strong. _

_Beat. _

_Rules._

_Change._

_Heart._

_Change in._

_Heart._

_Over._

_Almost._

_The._

_Change in the._

_Almost over._

The molten steel had poured itself from my stomach, my lounges, my neck. Now it was thicker and hotter than ever before, congregated, mixing, boiling in my heart which tried desperately, vainly to pump it all away. Quick, small shots of the fire licked through the tunnels of my body from the center of my heart. And it beat faster. Faster. Faster. It beat so quickly I could hear it pounding in my chest. I could feel it. Like a million horses running through the streets of Chicago it thudded again and again- and then it stopped, beat once more and was still. I felt it like a rock in my chest.

The fire had suddenly died, leaving only ashes glowing in my throat. The voice was speaking to me now, constantly. I opened my eyes slowly and sat up.

"_He's done. I hope this was the right thing to do. What if he doesn't want to follow my ways? Human blood may be spilt. His mother. How did she know? She knew. He would be dead now. Condemned to eternity as this now. He will listen. Edward you aren't human anymore._"

"Edward, you parent human anymore. _There I said it. He'll be puzzled now. He's overwhelmed. So many are. He must be thirsty. He'll want human blood but I must teach him to hunt for animals. What will he say? Perhaps the mirror. It's in the other room."_

I quickly turned to face the Voice, but was instantly absorbed by the quickness of the movement. No sooner had I even thought to turn around, had I been around. I thought I should be dizzy but it seemed natural. I turned back to face the original direction to check my perception of the speed and turned back again to see who I recognized as Dr. Cullen from the hospital. "_He's just discovering his movement. He'll likely break the bed if he stands. I'll have to buy a new one. Well, two actually as props. No. We'll be moving anyway, if he wants to join me. Of course he may choose his own path._

Instantly I was irritated. "Will you cease and desist to mumble about me while I am present in the room Dr. Cullen?" I almost yelled, relieved to be able to speak in words. Alarmed at the sound of my voice I jumped off the bed and found myself outside, having traveled through the sole window of the room. I saw every shard of the glass bounce off my body in an instant, and yet I understood every angle of the broken glass, accompanied by the tearing of some 23 threads on my pants and loose cotton shirt. Simultaneously. delayed by a time so short it was undiscerning I saw in my mind as it was taking place my own body fly backwards from the cot of a bed through the window. I realized suddenly that I should be bleeding, should be in excruciating pain. If anything, I felt- good.

Suddenly the puzzle came together "What did you mean 'Not Human'?"

"_Vampire_. Edward, this is a new life for you. You have become, like me what humans know as-"

As Dr. Cullen spoke, the old demon who had been with me in the fire, in an identical voice echoed, or rather, fore-said his words.

"Vampire" I breathed.

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A/N: So, there is chapter 3, finally. I will update as soon as I can, which may or may not be very soon. I do ask though, if you have enjoyed the story so far or have a comment that you want to share, please post a review.


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